


Once Upon A Wedding

by MachineQueen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, background Edeleth, ferdithea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachineQueen/pseuds/MachineQueen
Summary: “You didn’t bring a plus one,” she says and from her expression this seems to please her.“Neither did you.”“All right, don’t rub it in.Ferdinand and Dorothea attend Edelgard's wedding. Fluff.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43
Collections: Ferdinand Week 2021





	Once Upon A Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> For Ferdinand Week - Day 4 - Hair/Loneliness
> 
> It's late but at least I got it out before the week ended!

Ferdinand learned how to circulate a crowd from watching his mother and father. Now he does it without conscious thought. He sips at his wine between smatterings of conversation, but the amount in his glass never seems to go down. Waiters and waitresses glide through the crowd much more surreptitiously than he does, keeping the wedding guests sated and merry.

It would be nice, he thinks, to be a waiter. Then he could people watch without having anyone make conversation with him. Not that he’d surrender centre stage forever, mind you! Just for a night, so he can see what it’s like to be invisible.

The only one busier than him is the bride, Edelgard. She is surrounded. The only reason she hasn't been mobbed is Hubert's glare. The flowers stitched onto his collar and sleeves should diminish his efforts, but instead make him even more terrifying.

Ferdinand doesn't have a Hubert so he juggles the crowd alone. So many want his attention - merchants and soldiers and knights and nobles. Most know him but he does not always know them. He commits their names and faces to memory as best he can. He knows saying 'nice to meet you' twice wounds them even as they try and laugh it off. _Don't you remember me, prime minister?_ He pushes his bangs out of his face (they need cutting) and pretends the problem is due to visual impairment. He’s not sure any of them buy it.

As the night draws to a close, everyone pairs off. The invitations all said 'plus one'. Couples linger together, heads bent, sharing secrets. No such person seeks out Ferdinand. He feels a pang of loneliness and turns from the crowd. 

On his way out, he passes Dorothea. From her body language, he knows something’s off. She wriggles away from the gentleman who has her arm but he holds on, leaning to talk directly into her ear. From the look on her face, he’s not making polite conversation about the weather. As Ferdinand gets closer, he recognises the man as something important in the Faerghan Merchant Guild. When he met Ferdinand, he said he wanted to move to Enbarr because 'your women are so beautiful I'm surprised anyone gets any work done'.

Dorothea is certainly beautiful in her crimson bridesmaids’ gown. Red has always suited her and tonight is no different. 

"Dorothea! May I escort you to your carriage?" 

"You may, prime minister. Thank you."

The merchant looks disappointed as they bid their goodbyes. Dorothea simpers but Ferdinand can see a telltale glint of annoyance in her eyes. They walk out together, but Dorothea jerks them off route as soon as they’re away from the ballroom. Ferdinand can just make out the annoyed line of her mouth in the shadowy corridor before his eyes adjust.

“I didn't need you to rescue me!" Dorothea glares like he's paid her the worst of insults. 

"I know you did not _need_ me to."

"Do you think I'm helpless just because I'm a woman?" 

She jabs a finger at his chest. Her breath smells like wine and her eyes are wild with it. 

"No, I thought you were going to kick him in the nethers and start a diplomatic incident. This is meant to be a day of peace and I wanted to keep it as such."

Dorothea sighs. "I know you're right. But I'm still mad I didn't get to kick him."

Ferdinand knows from experience _anything_ he says to Dorothea when she's in this kind of mood will be wrong. So he bites his tongue and waits. 

She sighs, reaches up to straighten his cravat. "Sorry, Ferdie. I'm a little on edge. I don't like weddings."

This is news to Ferdinand. Dorothea spent the day gushing over Edelgard’s dress, Edelgard's flowers, Edelgard's immaculate hair. To him it seemed she was entirely in her element. 

"...You are a good actress."

"Well. You know. Anything for Edie." He waits for her to start back towards the palace entrance. She doesn't. "Come for a walk with me?" 

It is Dorothea. He cannot say no. 

Guards raise their hands in greeting as they stride through the palace. Dorothea leads him out into the gardens. The night air is cool and welcoming after a day of clammy rooms. The only sound is the rustle of grass and chirp of grasshoppers. The full moon gleams off Dorothea's bracelets and then her earrings. She catches him looking. 

"Buzz, buzz," she grins. 

Very cute. He almost says that to her, then remembers he's attached to his arms and would like to keep them intact. Instead, he plays along.

"I cannot help it! You are a queen, did we not agree?"

She smiles and it seems her bad mood is forgotten. “You didn’t bring a plus one,” she says and from her expression this seems to please her.

“Neither did you.”

“All right, don’t rub it in.” She hugs her arms to herself and shivers. Ferdinand is close enough to make out the beaked head of an eagle in her intricate lace sleeves. He takes off his suit jacket and holds it out as an offering. Dorothea looks at it, looks at him.

“Such a gentleman.”

“A noble should not let a lady shiver.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

“Who says that?”

“Manuela.” She takes the jacket. It looks better on her, even as she loses her arms inside the sleeves. “If you’re going to be a gentleman, shall we take a turn about the gardens?” She offers her arm. He feels he’s being mocked.

“You are cold, should we not head back indoors?”

“Then I have to share you with the rest of Fodlan. Where’s the fun in that?”

Ferdinand doesn’t know how to take this. He gets on well with Dorothea but they don’t usually spend time alone. She’s struck a flirtatious tone, but how to read it? He thinks of a cat batting a helpless mouse between its paws. 

“Dorothea, what are we doing out here?”

“I’m not quite sure my rescue was a completely selfless act. You look tired, Ferdie. This should give you a break.”

He isn’t sure if being alone with Dorothea is easier than using the festive mood of Edelgard’s wedding to pull political strings. Both require a delicacy he finds difficult. Though perhaps he is finally getting the hang of it.

“I really do not mind talking with people, but I appreciate the thought.” Ferdinand lets her thread their arms together. She’s warm against him and rests her head on his shoulder a moment before they start walking.

“Why do you dislike weddings?” he asks, picking up a thread from earlier.

“A woman’s wedding day is the last day that’s hers and hers alone. The very pinnacle of her existence and the beginning of the end. Don’t you think that’s sad?”

“I do not believe that is true. Many women have happy lives and perform great feats after they are married.”

“Really? It seems to me all they do is complain. Mind you, some definitely do it to show off. I bet Edie will be one of those. _Byleth bought me roses again_. _I suppose I should tell her to stop as we are running out of room in the gardens._ ”

As impersonations of Edelgard go, Dorothea’s is very accurate. She nails pitch, tone and rhythm. Ferdinand offers Hubert’s low rasp in return. “ _Where would you like them, Your Majesty? As the rose garden is full, might I suggest pots in the drawing room?_ ”

Dorothea laughs and Ferdinand along with her. They both relax, letting the peace of the gardens unwind them. “You should audition for the opera,” Dorothea tells him. “You can act. You can sing. You’re not bad to look at.”

Every time Ferdinand thinks he’s rid of the pesky remnants of his younger self, something brings them back. No, not just something. Dorothea. She takes him back to when he was an overbearing teenager, determined to win her over. And that younger self is ecstatic she would ask him to audition for her beloved opera.

“High praise indeed! But where would I find the time? There are not enough hours in the day as it is.”

“You can surely spare some time for a hobby? What do you do for fun?” 

“Horseriding. Reading. Writing letters.”

“That’s a lot of solo activities. Sounds a little lonely.”

“I am with people most of the day so I do not mind a break. But very well, if there is a part that will suit me I would be honoured to audition.”

Dorothea smiles and hugs his arm. Ferdinand tries to keep his stride steady.

They reach Edelgard’s rose garden. Rows and rows of thorny rose bushes, all in different stages of blooming. The ones bordering the path are being coaxed into an archway. Ferdinand has to duck his head - they’re a tad overgrown. Dorothea is the perfect height. She looks like she stepped from the pages of a fairytale.

“You seem very at home among all the other roses.”

“I’m a rose now? I thought I was a queen.”

“You could be Queen of the Roses. Have you read that play? I think you’d be wonderful in it, especially as -

Ferdinand snags his coat, bringing them to sudden halt. When he turns to free himself, his hair catches instead. He reaches up to yank at it but Dorothea beats him to it. She unwinds him with gentle patience. 

“Oh, Ferdie. When did your hair get so pretty?”

He opens his mouth to tell her it isn’t like that on purpose before he realises she said _pretty_ and not _long_. His face heats. He’s very glad he remembered to brush it today. She tucks the errant lock safely back behind his ear and then curls it around her finger. It feels nice, so he closes his eyes and keeps very still while she fiddles, adjusting it to her liking. 

“Your bangs need trimming. I can do it, if you want.”

She gently smoothes them out of his face and he nods, not trusting himself to speak. He doesn’t want to blow this. Whatever it is. A romantic stroll in the palace gardens with the woman he’s been in love with for the last six years doesn’t quite seem believable.

"Ferdinand.” Dorothea’s eyes are very green and her breath is very warm on his cheek. He doesn’t think he's ever heard her say his full name before. "Do you want to kiss me?"

His heart rate ratchets up and up. "It depends. Will I lose any limbs? How much wine have you had?"

"I'm tipsy. I'm not catatonic." She takes his hand and strokes the back. "You wouldn't be in breach of any noble ethics."

She _wants_ him to kiss her and his addled mind can't conjure any rhyme or reason for it. Eighteen-year-old Ferdinand makes it known he does not care and takes charge while the rest of him stays frozen in shock. Their faces are so close together all he needs to do is tip his chin down and place his mouth on hers. It's the easiest and hardest thing he's ever done. He cups her chin to hold her steady and she winds her hands deeper into his hair. Her lips are waxy with lipstick and sweet from wine and dessert. Suddenly it becomes too much, having her in his arms, in his mouth. He draws back and waits for a pithy comment on his kissing technique. He can't look at her. 

"Hey, are you alright? Did I hurt you?" 

Dorothea touches his cheek and he shakes his head. 

"Was that your first kiss?" 

It's the first one that's _mattered_ but he doesn't want to tell her that. 

"It was lovely," Dorothea whispers. "And I would very much like it if you did it again."

She reaches for him, strokes his hair and coaxes his eyes back to hers. This time she kisses him. It's everything he ever dreamed of. 

"Do you want," he says. Then stops. Is she here because she's lonely and bored? Or is this real? Does she actually want him to court her? She deserves so much the notion seems overwhelming. Flowers and meals and trinkets don't seem like they'd ever be enough. 

"I want _you_. Not just for tonight. I’ve hardly seen you this year and I miss you."

He wraps his arms around her and she kisses his neck and the soft skin behind his ear while he marvels at the curve of her back, the narrow dip of her waist. He wishes he weren’t wearing gloves so he could properly enjoy the silk of her dress.

"I know you're lonely too," she whispers. "Even in a crowd. I can see it."

"You were watching."

"At first I was just mad you were stealing so much attention. Then I remembered how you make people feel. How you make _me_ feel like the most important person in the room."

They kiss again and this time he does not know if it's him or her who initiates it. Her lipstick smears over his chin and her fingers become greedy in his hair but it’s perfect because of all the things he didn’t imagine. Like the scent of her perfume and the murmurs of appreciation she makes into his mouth and the slide of her hands up the nape of his neck -

“Take me home,” she whispers, voice laden with want. And it’s for him. For him!

They’ll have so many moments together, him and her. But this one will remain his staunch favourite for years to come.


End file.
